


it's a dog's life

by thegroovygatsby



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, But mostly fluff, Fluff, M/M, and sort of UST, it's really really fluffy ok, seriously so much fluff, will has a nice day off and no one eats any people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 15:20:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegroovygatsby/pseuds/thegroovygatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>will takes a day off from work to stay home with his dogs and hannibal pays him a visit. will actually has a good day for once. shameless fluff, but as in-character as i could make it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's a dog's life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rehearsal_Dweller](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rehearsal_Dweller/gifts).



Will answered the door in a pair of sweatpants and a ragged, sweat-stained t-shirt.

“Will, I know it’s your day off, but I was hoping to get your opinion on—”

“No,” Will said firmly.

Jack spread his hands. “Please, Will, they’re really stumped back there.”

“No, Jack. Not today.”

“Come on, Will, just a few minutes—”

“I’m not. I can’t.” Will crossed his arms over his chest, looking more tired than angry. Winston came up to the door and gave a snuffling _woof_ in Jack’s direction.

“Yes you _can,_ Will. You’re the best I have.” Jack bent down to scratch Winston’s head. Will’s eyes were focused on the empty space that Jack’s bulk had occupied and he didn’t say anything.

“Please,” Jack tried again, “Just tell me what you think about—”

Winston stopped sniffing at Jack’s fingers and began barking, cutting Jack off mid-sentence. Will closed the door before the other man could start speaking again.

Jack waited a moment before standing up. He sighed, turned around, and went back to his car.

Once the sound of Jack’s engine had faded, Will turned away from the window, knelt down and hugged Winston. “Good boy,” he said to the dog. Winston nosed at Will’s chest and then sneezed. Will giggled, surprising himself, and hugged the dog again before moving to lay down on the couch with a book.

A few hours later found Will asleep with the book on his face and surrounded by dogs. There was a dog across his legs, another dog curled up on his chest, and there was Winston on the floor being brushed by Will’s dangling fingertips. The rest lounged by the front door.

When Hannibal arrived, the dogs by the door sat up and whined softly; not loud enough to wake Will, but loud enough for Hannibal to hear from the porch. He paused with his hand on the doorknob before carefully opening the door and stepping into the house. A few dogs stood up, tails wagging in anticipation of a treat. Hannibal indulged them, pulling a few bits of sausage from his pocket and bending down, one hand on his thigh, so the dogs could take it. Once his hand was licked clean he stood up and wiped off with his handkerchief. Hannibal cast his eyes around the room, noticing Will sleeping, noticing the small dog on Will’s chest rising and falling as Will breathed.

Hannibal bent over, hesitated a moment, and then took off his shoes, placing them by the door. His feet now clad only in a pair of elegant grey socks, Hannibal crept past Will and into the kitchen.

Will awoke about twenty minutes later with a strange weight on his chest and a stranger smell in his nostrils. He blinked a few times before realizing that the weight was a sleeping dog and then he sat up, placing her on one of the cushions his head had been resting on. She twitched her legs but didn’t wake up. Will smiled down at her, stroking along her back.

“Ah, Will. You’re awake.”

Will nearly fell off the couch. “Oh God!”

Hannibal stepped fully out of the kitchen, dusting off his hands as he did so. “Perhaps, but you may simply address me as ‘Hannibal’.”

“Why,” Will grimaced at the taste of sleep in his mouth and swallowed, trying to get rid of it, “Why are you in my house?”

“Your door was unlocked.” Will crossed his arms and waited. “And you missed our appointment, Will.”

“You drove all this way to ask me why I missed an appointment.”

Hannibal didn’t answer.

“And...” Will peered at him, squinting to try and see him better, “You decided to…cook?”

Hannibal shrugged. “I attempted to occupy myself while you slept.”

Will scrubbed his hands over his face. “Thank you,” he said finally, “but. I took a day off. I forgot that we had an appointment.”

Hannibal approached the couch, taking Will’s head in his hands and turning his face from side to side. “Have you lost time again?”

Will was uncomfortable. “Not since yesterday. Please stop.”

“I apologize.” Hannibal straightened up. Will, who was staring at the ground, noticed Hannibal’s sock feet for the first time and for some reason he found them to be quite possibly the funniest thing he had ever seen. He giggled, quietly at first, but then grew louder as he found himself shaking with laughter, tears in his eyes, the hilarity doubling every time he got another look at Hannibal’s feet. Hannibal was indignant.

“Will,” he tried, but Will put up a hand and continued to laugh. Hannibal made a face that Will didn’t see and stalked back into the kitchen.  
After a moment Will’s laughter petered out into weak hiccups and he stood up, wiping his eyes. He took his glasses from the table by his couch and put them on, walking into the kitchen to find Hannibal, who was standing with his back to the living room and peeling some carrots that he had found in Will’s fridge.

“I’m sorry,” Will said to Hannibal’s back, “It wasn’t that funny.”

Hannibal turned around, wearing the sternest expression Will had ever seen, and it took all of his willpower not to dissolve into peals of laughter all over again. He had to bite his tongue. “I’m sorry,” a smile tugged the corners of his mouth upward, “Sorry. What did you make? I don’t think I really had all that much in the way of, you know. Food.”

Hannibal relaxed. “I prepared only some vegetables and bread. You are correct in that your kitchen is miserably devoid of ingredients. I had not planned on cooking, otherwise I would have brought something.”

Will was oddly touched. “Oh. Well. Thanks, I’m sure it’ll be great anyway.”

Hannibal looked at Will. “Of course it will be.”

Will just snorted and sat down at the kitchen table. Hannibal put a small dish of food down in front of him, grabbed some glasses and silverware that looked clean enough, as well as a pitcher of water, and then sat down across from Will with his own plate. Will immediately picked up a fork and took a bite, making a pleased noise as he swallowed. He began practically shoveling food into his mouth.

“Hannibal, it’s really good. Are you sure you only used the stuff I had in my kitchen?”

Hannibal put down his fork and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Scout’s honor,” he said, and his tone was grave. Will shook his head, taking another bite to hide his smile. When he looked up again, Hannibal was staring in the general direction of his mouth.

Will waved his fork in the air in front of Hannibal’s face. “Ground control to Major Hannibal.”

“I’m sorry?” Hannibal blinked.

“It’s from a song. Can I help you with something?”

Hannibal seemed politely confused. “Will, I don’t—”

Will grinned. “You were staring. At my mouth.”

“No, I wasn’t.”  
“Yes, you were.”

“Will, I assure you, I was not. I would consider such behavior incredibly rude.”

“But you were!”

“Will,” Hannibal’s tone suggested the end of the argument.

Will stuck his tongue out, and then scraped the last bite of food off his plate with his fork and stuffed it in his mouth. Hannibal finished, too, and was busy placing his fork on the table in such a way that it was equidistant from both the plate and the edge of the napkin it sat on top of, as well as pointing straight ahead in a perfect vertical line.

Will thought it was kind of cute.

As soon as Hannibal had gotten it perfectly straight, Will stretched his arm across the table—disguising the movement as a reach for the water pitcher—and touched one of the fork’s tines with a finger, causing the fork to turn just slightly and end up pointing to Hannibal’s dish instead of straight ahead.  
“Oops,” he said as innocently as he could manage, refilling his glass.

“Quite all right, Will,” Hannibal’s tone was light as he fixed the placement of the utensil, but his eyes had darkened. Will recognized the challenge there, though he didn’t give any sign that he had, and he mentally awarded himself a point in whatever strange game they were playing. He glanced at the water, intending to move it back across the table so he could repeat his action. As Will’s hand touched the handle of the pitcher, Hannibal’s eyes narrowed, as if sensing his intent.

“Will—” Hannibal started to warn him just as Will picked up the pitcher, and Will was startled enough that he dropped it onto the table. It didn’t break, but most of the water splashed out and soaked Hannibal’s stomach and thighs as he jumped up. Will practically leapt out of his seat and ran around to Hannibal’s side of the table.

“Oh God, oh God, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, was that an expensive suit, I’m sorry,” he babbled as he grabbed a bunch of napkins and tried to blot the wet patch on Hannibal’s stomach.

“Will,” Hannibal said, but Will just kept apologizing. “Will,” Hannibal said, louder this time.

“What?” Will finally stopped blotting, staring down at the slowly growing puddle on the floor.

“This suit is dry clean only,” Hannibal said. Will recoiled in horror, putting his hands up and opening his mouth to start talking again. “No, Will, I apologize, that was a joke.”

Will’s mouth closed in shock. “A joke,” he repeated.

“Yes, Will. I do have a sense of humor, though I rarely have the opportunity to show it off.”

Will balled up the damp napkins in his hands and threw them at Hannibal.

“Come on,” Will said, shaking his head, “I have some dry clothes you can wear.” He noticed Hannibal staring at his ratty sweatpants and t-shirt. He sighed. “Clean clothes. I promise.” He started walking towards the bedroom. Hannibal followed, and stepping gingerly because of his wet slacks.

Once the two men were inside Will’s bedroom, Will began tearing through his drawers looking for something Hannibal could wear. Hannibal was taller and more broad-chested that Will, and Will was worried that none of his clothes would fit.

“Here,” Will said finally, holding out a clean white t-shirt and a pair of long pajama pants that he had never worn.  
Hannibal eyed both with distaste.

“Oh, just wear them, they’ll be more comfortable than wet clothes,” Will said, looking away. Hannibal sighed.

“Fine,” he said, beginning to unbutton his shirt. Will put the clothes down on the bed and left the room.

A couple of minutes later, Hannibal still hadn’t left Will’s bedroom. Will walked over, a few dogs snuffling along at his heels, and he shushed them as he knocked on the door.

“Hannibal?” he called. “Is everything okay?”

“No,” came the reply, muffled by the door.

“Can I come in? Hannibal?” No answer. “I’m coming in.”

Will turned the doorknob to enter the room, the dogs pushing past and nearly tripping him.

Hannibal stood, staring down at the baggy pants that were far too wide for his legs and looking utterly miserable. The dogs gathered at his feet, jumping up every so often to try and lick his hands.

“They probably smell me on you, because of the clothes.” Will smiled a little.

Hannibal’s nostrils flared. “Indeed.”

“Hey.”

“I didn’t mean—Will. Thank you. The clothes are fine.”

“I know, they’re not quite what you’re used to. At least they’re dry.”

“Yes,” Hannibal said. He walked over to Will. The casual clothes made him seem smaller, somehow. “Will.”

“Hmm?” Will looked up from the dog he was petting.

“Thank you,” Hannibal sounded sincere. Will straightened up.

“You’re welcome. It was the least I could do, after spilling water on you in the first place.” Hannibal was firmly rooted within Will’s personal space. Will shifted nervously. “Hannibal—”

Winston chose that exact moment to leap into the room, hitting the back of Will’s legs and knocking him off-balance. Will fell forward onto Hannibal, causing them both to collapse to the floor. Will landed partially on top of Hannibal, and their faces were inches from each other’s. He could feel the little huff of breath that Hannibal let out, and of course Will began to laugh. Soon enough Hannibal followed suit, and then they were both laughing on Will’s floor, surrounded by dogs.

“I’m sorry,” Will gasped for breath, “I’m just a mess tonight.”

“Quite all right,” Hannibal assured him, patting Will’s back awkwardly.

The laughter died out, and then there was silence as they both caught their breath. Will didn’t know where to look; his eyes flicked from the ceiling to Hannibal’s mouth to the dogs. Hannibal kept his gaze locked on Will.

“It’s a long drive home,” Will told the ceiling, “Why don’t you just…stay here tonight.”

“On the couch, or on the floor with the dogs?” Hannibal sounded amused.

“Forget I asked,” Will mumbled to one of the dogs.

“Will. Forgive me. I would be happy to stay.”

Will’s heart thudded in his chest. He could feel his pulse in his neck, behind his ears. It was almost painful.

“Will.”

“Hannibal.”

“Will, look at me.” Will looked at Hannibal’s mouth. “Will.” Will dragged his gaze up to meet Hannibal’s eyes. His pulse thundered along. Hannibal’s eyes were dark, and he slowly brought up one hand to touch the back of Will’s head gently, oh so gently. Will was like a deer in headlights.

“Will,” Hannibal breathed, and Will realized that Hannibal had been slowly bringing their faces even closer.

Will hummed and brought their lips together.

Hannibal licked at Will’s lips, nipping lightly with his teeth until Will gasped, opening his mouth and letting Hannibal’s tongue in. Hannibal skated his tongue over the foreign area, lingering on Will’s pointy eyeteeth. Will moaned.

They eventually broke apart, both breathing harder than normal. Will’s ears were warm as they stood up. 

“Well,” he said.

“Yes,” Hannibal answered.

Will smiled. “I guess taking the day off really did do me good.”

Hannibal tilted his head before stepping in to embrace Will.

Winston _woofed_ at them, tail wagging.

Will smiled into Hannibal’s shoulder. “Let’s not go to work tomorrow,” he said.

**Author's Note:**

> based on a prompt from tumblr that was supposed to be a drabble but became this monster instead. sorry, i should really be working on my other hannibal fic OTL


End file.
